Hello, is anyone there?

love.

What a monster. I think I have a grip on everything but that damn word. It hasn't been an easy thing to come by and yet I feen for it like an addict awaiting the next hit.

Love.

Don't know what to do about it. I scream to the Universe, "HELLO. I'm READY."

Gotta wait. Gotta wait. Gotta wait.

lOve.

At the same time, there are suitors. There are those who would like my time and my attention but for whatever reason, something is off, not right. My Spirit says....not him even though....it looks right. Looks can be deceiving.

LOvE.

Then there are those who I have my eye on but their eye isn't on me. That always sucks. [best words I could find]. It sucks royally because you wonder why they can't see you, feel you, or what you. This is no disparate plea. Just an observation. Love me, love me not.

LOVE.

Calling out. I'm here. I'm ready. I'm waiting.

love love love

me.

Comments

Confessions of a Recovering Misogynist" by Kevin Powell

In the past few weeks, I've had the opportunity to have very brief conversations with Kevin Powell. Its very interesting to speak with someone with similar passions for community service. As someone who has been very transparent on her blog, I find this essay by Kevin refreshing. I just happen to see this on Facebook as someone posted it many months ago. Thanks KP. I AM A SEXIST MALE. I take no great pride in saying this, I am merely stating a fact. It is not that I was born this way-rather, I was born into this male-dominated society, and consequently, from the very moment I began forming thoughts, they formed in a decidedly male-centered way. My "education" at home with my mother, at school, on my neighborhood playgrounds, and at church, all placed males in the middle of the universe. My digestion of the 1970s American popular culture in the form of television, film, ads, and music only added to my training, so that by as early as age nine or ten I saw females, includ

For Colored Girls: Seeing Red

After being very vocal about being Tyler Perry a less than favorite choice to direct an adaption of Ntozake Shange's "For Colored Girls who have considered suicide when the rainbow is enuf" or better known now as "For Colored Girls", I watched the movie feeling empty. I've seen myself in the colors of orange and green . I've empathized with the browns in my life. I know yellow and I know blue. Then there is RED . I could spend time examining the issues I had with the movie. I could also celebrate the power of dynamic words used to express OUR stories of various hues, depths, and struggles. The color red, Janet Jackson's character, disturbed me. This development of this character reeks of Perry's own personal agenda. He wanted to talk about the down low situation. He wanted to bring in HIV and so he did. In spite of Janet's less than wonderful acting abilities, I was interested in how her story would play itself out. I heard about her. Th

ClevaWords

Search This Blog